Ephemeral Movement DemonBlade
by gentlemen genocide machine
Summary: This is a story. A story of good against evil. Of the machinations of dark god's. Of those who would smite evil with evil. Of those who would take up the guilty blade. Of those who would fly on guilty wings.


Prologue: Fall.

* * *

The deep.

The abyss.

The endless, limitless sea of stars.

The far reaches of the infinite void, the other side of a lonely world. Who knows of the strange things that lurk there, the threat that approaches? who knows?.

In a place beyond Human knowledge, beyond insanity, the world and the _Other_ violate, rape, defile each other. Over and over again. Still they continue. Still they return. Forever into the future. Forever into the past.

And even now at this very moment. There will likely never be an end.

Not if, at the end of endless time, even death may die.

The stars do not blink.

The stars do not waver.

In space, their brightness is far too great.

In the blackness that lies between those countless lights, this planet exists.

The blue earth.

Deep, deep, blue.

A dark blue.

A fathomless blue.

Yet look how it glitters.

Faintly.

Dazzlingly.

Peacefully.

Overwhelmingly.

Tearing apart that blue, a dark wound spreads.

A black crack splits the sky. Compared to the expanse of blue, it is so very small. However, it is an undeniably present.

_Other_.

Unnatural.

Something that _cannot_ exist.

Something that _must not_ exist.

It is a clear tear in the world.

From that tear... _it _comes.

As though it has been rejected from the other Side, loathed, ridiculed, cast out.

It is...steel.

A giant form of steel.

By what scale can it be called 'Giant'?.

The answer is clear.

Compared to what it's form is based on, it is much too enormous.

The steel has been shaped in the form of man, or perhaps seeing it that way would be a mistake born of ego. If man is made in the shape of god, perhaps it too has been made in god's image.

However.

No matter what shape it is meant to emulate.

It is flawed.

Sliced.

Smashed.

Many of it's parts were missing.

Short an arm and a leg, half of it's face had been torn away. Across it's chest lies a great gash, as though it had been cut open.

In order to be in the image of god, one must not be incomplete.

God is perfect.

With all the damage it has taken, it can no longer be called an image of man.

A person missing so many parts is no longer a person, but a corpse.

However.

The steel giant is yet alive.

Still caught in the inertia of its ejection, the giant seems as though it will fall to earth.

The azure giant of steel does not give in.

As though by some unseen force, the giant stopped it's fall.

It's single emerald eye glared at the crack, clenching it's bloodless iron hand, though two of its fingers bent in unnatural directions and cannot form a fist.

From the giant's broken frame networks of light appear.

Coming together in countless layers, they shape themselves around it.

In that ring of shapes appear symbols.

Characters carved out of light into space itself.

A web light formed from the characters of light. Thus a pattern is given shape.

And something _other_ occurs.

The giants body of ruined steel, broken and crushed...mends.

What was once broken corrects itself, slashes, gashes, cracks are undone, unmade.

What was lost, missing, severed are made again, each piece and part forge themselves as though from nothing.

The azure giant, once broken is whole again.

Was this a form of healing?, did the giant regenerate itself?. If so why was it wounded? why was it shattered?, indeed this was not regeneration.

Perhaps.

It was as if the azure giant had reversed time itself, back to when it had suffered not these wounds, these loses.

The steel giants black wing's unfurled, leaving it unbound by gravity. It's wings now lawed over inertia.

Upon the giants hand's, sigils manifested.

Upon its right hand, the sigil burst forth with unimaginable heat. Flames flickered and licked as they burst into life, these flame's should not, could not exist within the vacuum that was space. yet they did, as though they flowed forth unheeding of that which we called ' Common sense'.

Upon its left hand, the sigil gleamed with unimaginable cold. space around it froze over, the ice growing as it froze more and more around it, indeed ice was practically common in space. Yet, as if in tandem with the flame's it defied any reason the mind could conceive and spread voraciously as if it sought out to freeze over everything.

Light bursts as the fire and ice burst apart, scatter, reform, contract, expand again and crystallize.

The incomprehensible, otherworldly elements take form, shaping themselves into masses of metal.

Those looming overwhelming yet familiar shapes were bloodthirst and destruction given form

They...

Indeed they, without a shadow of a doubt.

Were gun's.

The azure giant seizes the newly formed weapons with it's hands, strength from the day's of old flow renewed in it's grip.

The handgun of fire, the revolver of ice.

Together they were a blade of concentrated malic, it's point aimed straight at the tear in space, and through the other side.

Strengthened by the desire to kill, power flows into the mechanical fingers.

The triggers.

Pulled.

From the revolver, light surges from the muzzle, a thunderous storm of ice.

From the handgun, molten slug's equal or even surpassing the star's themselves, a raging disaster of fire.

Both handcannons payload flies straight into the crack as though guided by malice.

This combined apocalypse is swallowed into the darkness of the fissure.

There is a brief silence, although the universe has been silent from the first.

Then the tear shines with...

Light!.

Light!.

Light!.

Light burst's forth.

The violence of the light burns away the blackness of space.

The flood of light swallows up the whole world.

Within the light.

Silence.

Then, the white darkness begins to withdraw.

Yet for a time some light remains burned into the void.

In that blurry white darkness, the azure giant, still poised to strike, flexes it's steel wings.

The giant moves.

It's speed, it's speed was something man could never hope to reproduce as it is.

Blinding speed beyond observation hurtled it forward.

As it moved at such immense speeds, the azure giants eyes remained fixed ahead.

The fissure...has vanished.

There is nothing.

Nothing but the endless sea of stars.

The _other_ has vanished, leaving not even a trace behind.

No.

There are light's shining.

Are they remnants of the light from the devastation shot forth from the giants gun's?.

Wrapped in those lights.

A silver shape.

The silver shape is also in the form of man.

It...is another steel giant.

However, it did not lack any of its parts.

A perfect image of man.

Or, perhaps.

An perfect image of god.

But.

There was something... wrong.

As if it's very existence was wrong.

With it's right hand held out, it looks down upon the azure giant. It is as though it's expressionless steel mask is laughing contemptuously.

"You continue this farce"

The silver giants voice echoes through space, where no sound should be heard.

Clear like the sound of a bell, it is the voice that can only belong to the highest of the highest, a king.

The voice continues.

Addressing the giant that has fired upon it, the voice is gentle as though speaking to an old friend. Yet within it there is an echo of untold loathing.

"Even though you are loaded as the strongest... without that blade, there is no hope of you defeating this... Abhoth".

The iron giant does not answer.

however, it's actions speak louder than any words can.

A second shot is fired.

Then a third.

A fourth.

A fifth.

A rain from the depths of hell strikes at crimson giant.

"How...futile".

Light gathers in the silver giants outstretched hand.

A floating pattern forms from characters of light.

In front of the silver giant appears a mighty barrier that blocks and disperses the rain of lighting.

"Come forth and consume...**_ Darkness of N'kai_** ".

The silver giants arm split's, and from it the gaping maw of a black cannon emerges, its length covered in shining symbols.

From the barrel of that cannon spew forth masses of darkness deeper than the black gulf of space.

Bending and absorbing even the starlight, eleven masses of darkness attack the azure giant.

The rocketing giant brings forth it's handcannons.

And fire's.

Simultaneous the azure giant expands a barrier of light.

Three of the spheres of darkness are drawn into it and destroyed.

Blazing forth it's gun's are able to dispell two more.

The rest it simply out races.

Increasing the output of it's wing's, the azure giant tackles it's silver foe. This seems to take the silver giant by surprise.

The two collide, throwing up a shower of sparks.

Guns vanishing away, the azure giant puts all of its strength into overpowering the silver giant as it thunder's forth.

The silver giants armour shrieks in protest and cracks appear in the armour of its back.

"Wait...what are you!?".

"...you!".

The kingly voice joined the other in confusion.

The voice the rung from the azure giant was that of a girl.

And as the azure giant rushed not towards the deep blue earth...

But it's red, empty twin. Mars.

She was ejected from the giant.

"Wait!...Stop!...!".

Even as she plummeted the girl continued to protest against the actions of the one that commanded the azure giant and even called out his name in some attempt to change things.

But.

All she could do was watch as both the giant and her comrade, ensnared within a series of sigils and runes, raced on to the red planet.

And here, all she could do was plummet into the deep, deep blue of the earth.

"... I'm sorry...".

The arcane array that surrounded the two giants was the only method he could think of to deal with these pain in the ass old farts.

"...We promised to fight together... forever...".

It was a spell.

A spell meant to seal away evil.

And here it would seal away the greatest evil of all.

At a grave cost.

"...I wonder...who will i be the next time we meet...".

With his last bright, blinding light of his life.

He rammed both giants into the red planet.

"...Al...".

/

This...is a story.

A story of good fighting evil.

Of the machinations of dark gods.

Of those who would fly with guilty wings.

Of those who would smite evil with evil.

Those who would take up the guilty blade.

Of a connection that surpasses both space, time and the endless aeon's themselves.

**_Ephemeral Movement DemonBlade._**


End file.
